


just let me do it

by grimzie



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Fluff, Gryles, M/M, Stymshaw - Freeform, nick teaches harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 23:00:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimzie/pseuds/grimzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sight of poor little pouty Harry sitting on the floor with his legs outstretched, cabinets open, things scattered all around him makes Nick's heart do this little thing where it almost stops beating from an overdose of adorable. He squats down in front of him and runs his fingers through Harry's fringe.<br/>"Well here's your problem. Tsk, tsk, Harold, have I taught you nothing?"<br/>Harry looks up at him and raises an eyebrow, insinuating something Nick wasn't talking about so nick just rolls his eyes with a smirk. "Not what I meant and you know it. Your hair is still damp! How do you expect it to stay up?"</p><p>Or, Nick helps Harry style his quiff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just let me do it

"Niiick!" Harry calls from the bathroom. He's topless and pink-cheeked and bloody overwhelmed, sifting through Nick's bathroom cupboards and medicine cabinet frantically pulling out tubes and bottles of assorted hair products, reading the labels as if he knows what he's looking for. Mousse, gel, pomade. Harry doesn't know what any of this is. He usually just brushes his hair and throws in some leave-in conditioner and goes about his day.  
But the other boys have talked (pressured) him into trying out the quiff look and he's not having the easiest time.

"Yeah, love?" Nick shouts from somewhere in the living room.

Harry sighs, his hair flops up from the small gust of air and flops right back down into his eyes. He puts his hands on his hips before deciding scrubbing his face and rubbing his eyes with them in frustration would be a better idea.  
"I can't do this!" he shouts all muffled through his hands.

He hears Nick pad through the bedroom and tap on the bathroom door but he doesn't answer it right away because he doesn't really want Nick to see him a mess like this. Nick leans against the door frame and crosses his arms.  
"All right in there?"  
Harry just makes an unintelligible noise between groaning and whining and Nick has to hold his hand over his mouth to stop from giggling at how cute it was. A true sound of defeat.  
"I told you I'd help you."

But Harry doesn't want help. He wants to do it himself. It's bad enough he almost always feels like a little kid around Nick. He just thought he could do this one thing on his own but apparently not. So he just sits there and tugs furiously upward on his hair only to have it droop again.  
"I just don't understand what I'm doing wrong," he pouts.  
"Can I come in?"  
Harry sighs for like the 50th time. "Yeah, I guess."

The sight of poor little pouty Harry sitting on the floor with his legs outstretched, cabinets open, things scattered all around him makes Nick's heart do this little thing where it almost stops beating from an overdose of adorable. He squats down in front of him and runs his fingers through Harry's fringe.  
"Well here's your problem. Tsk, tsk, Harold, have I taught you nothing?"  
Harry looks up at him and raises an eyebrow, insinuating something Nick wasn't talking about so nick just rolls his eyes with a smirk. "Not what I meant and you know it. Your hair is still damp! How do you expect it to stay up?"

Harry looks around on the ground and picks up an aerosol can, reads it, and holds it out to Nick. "Dry shampoo?"  
Nick tuts and reaches into the cupboard to get his hair dryer, stands up, plugs it in and turns it on.  
"Up with you then," he says loudly over the whirring.  
Harry stands and Nick runs his round brush through his hair a few times and if the dryer wasn't so loud, he would probably be able to hear Harry purring. Nick twirls Harry's fringe backwards with the brush, ignoring Harry's grunts every now and then when he yanks too much. Harry keeps his eyes shut tightly the whole time but stays still for the most part. He's used to be yanked and dried and glammed up by Lou. He's a pro.

A few minutes later and Nick's done with the drying bit and he stands back to observe his work. He's only ever seen Harry with his hair out of his face by way of a headband or beanie and he doesn't want to admit that he actually looks sexy because then Harry would jump on him and all of this would be for naught.  
"Are you done?" Harry asks and looks at himself in the mirror. He brings his hand up to rake his fingers through the soft bump but Nick smacks his hand away.  
"No, I'm not! Don't touch it yet."

Nick puts his fingers back in Harry's hair and twists them a bit, shielding his eyes while he spritzes him with hairspray.  
"How come you get to touch it then?" Harry whines.  
"Because I actually know what I'm doing." Nick thinks that was a little harsh and Harry's pouty bottom lip confirms the notion so he dips down and pecks him on it, turning it into a smile. "Jokes. You know what I meant."

He puts the tin back on the counter and backs up, tells Harry to look at him. "Perfect! Probably should have told you what I was doing so you could do it on your own from now on..."  
Harry's gawking at his reflection like the little narcissist he is. He keeps picking up his hands to touch it and then changes his mind, not wanting to ruin the perfection. When he's finally (FINALLY) done with ogling at himself, he turns to Nick and hugs him, tiptoeing the slightest to rest his chin on Nick's shoulder. He pulls back and kisses him on his ear and whispers, "I don't mind you doing it for me."

Nick rolls his eyes because he's bad with things like this, always has been (cheesy moments, that is. Hair he's always been good with, not that he boasts or anything).  
"You should come on tour with us. Take Lou's job. Or you could be my personal stylist," Harry grins.  
A giant lump forms in Nicks chest and he has all he can do to swallow it down. "Let's not bring that up, yeah?" He clears his throat. "Hey, what'd ya say we go to lunch? Your treat."  
"Yeah, sure but Nick-" Harry stops him before he makes it out of the bedroom.  
"Hm?"  
"I don't think I can get a shirt on without ruining your masterpiece, mind helping me?" he smirks.

Nick gets the feeling he's going to be dressing Harry for a while now even if he doesn't necessarily need it.


End file.
